


Laura Was Right

by Sheepnamedpig



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, ghost!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepnamedpig/pseuds/Sheepnamedpig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first and last time Derek and his ghost boyfriend ever have sex in front of a mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laura Was Right

Derek feels Stiles coalesce as just as he starts stripping down for his usual post-work shower. Cool hands untuck his shirt from his slacks as he unbuttons the sleeves, then circle around to unbuckle his belt.

"Thought you were hiding from me," Derek says. He shrugs off the shirt and drops it on the bed.

"Naw. Kate followed you home again, so I had to go chase her away," the ghost answers, hands chilly on Derek’s back as he helps peel the thin tank top up and over Derek’s head.

"I hope you didn’t throw things again. The neighbors are getting suspicious."

"Psh, they already know this place is haunted as fuck. Besides, who’re they gonna call, Father Stilinski? He won’t exorcise his surrogate son guy. Who would he watch the Mets with if I was gone?" Stiles quips. "And no, I just heated up the sidewalk under her feet until she had to, heh, hotfoot it out of there." He steps over to the bedside table and tips his head in its direction with a questioning look.

Derek nods. A pre-shower fuck would be nice. Stiles opens the drawer and gets the lube while Derek steps out of his slacks and underwear, toeing off his socks last. He hears a noise behind him and looks over his shoulder to see Stiles pulling the full-length standing mirror over near the bed.

"What’s that for?" he asks.

Stiles smirks broadly. “Fun sex things. You’ll like it.”

Derek snorts. “What I’d like is for Kate to stop stalking me. And to stop calling my family and telling them we’re dating when we’re barely acquaintances.”

"We can ask Dad," Stiles says, referring to Father Stilinski. Derek thinks it’s cute that the whole surrogate son thing goes both ways. "He probably knows someone from his Sheriffing days who can get you a restraining order."

"Yeah. Sounds good." Derek sits on the edge of the bed facing the mirror. He gives his hardening cock a few tugs and watches it fatten up in his reflection. Meanwhile, Stiles circles the room, turning on the lights now that the sun is slipping behind the hills. Derek watches. He always looks a little more solid at night, like a real living person instead of a faded, slightly transparent apparition.

"So, I was thinking," Stiles says, bouncing on his toes as he wills away his clothes, "You know how I can go invisible?"

Derek nods, already sensing where this is going.

"Right, well I thought that maybe you’d like to see what I see when I fuck you without me getting in the way."

In the mirror, Derek can see his ears and cheeks turning red. Yeah, so he’s always been a little shy about what he looks like during sex, but there’s legitimate trauma there, ever since Laura walked in on him jerking off under his covers and then spent months making fun of the dumb, cross-eyed expression he made when he came whenever the adults were out of earshot. Stiles assures Derek all the time that his sex faces are appropriately sexy, but Derek is skeptical.

Stiles piles pillows on the bed behind Derek, who obediently leans back, eyes darting between Stiles and the mirror as Stiles kneels between Derek’s thighs. Derek wiggles closer to the edge of the bed and drapes a leg over Stiles’ shoulder.

The lube on Stiles’ fingers is cold against Derek’s ass cheeks and he twitches, focusing his attention on Stiles’ face. He’s grinning widely, even as he mouths at the base of Derek’s cock and sucks his balls into his wide mouth. Distracted, Derek barely feels the first finger slip inside.

The second is noticeable enough, familiar after how many times they’ve done this, and the third follows soon after, a warm stretch.

"Scootch," Stiles says, nudging Derek up against his pile of pillows. Derek goes, making room at the edge of the bed for Stiles, who kneels and guides his bare, slicked cock into Derek’s ass. It’s easy and comforting and so good after another stressful day at work. Derek moans and rocks his hips down into the cradle of Stiles’ hips and lets his legs hang over Stiles’ spread thighs, content to let Stiles do all the work.

"Fuck," Stiles grunts. "I love how easy you open for me."

"Self defense, you being the horny little bastard you are," Derek says, smirking. 

"Forever young, I want to be forever young," Stiles warbles. He plants his hands on either side of Derek’s ribs and begins rocking steadily into him. Derek slides his hands up Stiles’ abdomen to tweak and tug his nipples. Stiles leans into the touch, a solid, tingling pressure against Derek’s callused palms.

They shift further onto the bed, Derek curled between the heap of pillows and Stiles body as Stiles lays into him, fucking him with the long, steady strokes he knows drive Derek absolutely crazy. Derek just takes it, his eyes drooping closed and his toes curling with every pass of Stiles’ cock over his prostate.

"Holy god, but you feel good," Stiles gasps, leaning down to catch Derek’s mouth. "If you’d been around when I was alive, I’d never have let myself die like a chump."

Derek laughs, then gasps as Stiles gives him a few brisk thrusts before slowing back down. “Seeing as,” he says breathily, “seeing as you died saving my great grandfather, if you’d, oh fuck, there, if you’d lived he’d have died and I’d never exi- _oh fuck yeah-_ exist.”

Stiles gets his hands into the crooks of Derek’s knees and pushes them toward Derek’s chest, opening his ass right up for a sinuous grind. Derek tips his head back against the pillows and grips Stiles’ waist with pressure-white fingers.

"Heaven forbid," Stiles says. He adjust his knees, squishing Derek further into the pillows, and starts pounding into Derek’s wide open hole. Derek shouts and claws blindly at Stiles’ back, curling up off the bed and wrapping his arms around his broad ribcage. His hands slip, sweat on ghostly sweat, and he presses his face into Stiles’ throat as Stiles fucks him with abandon.

"Look," Stiles says. "Look in the mirror."

Derek’s eyes flutter open to discover that Stiles has gone invisible in his arms. He looks through him into the mirror and sees—

God, he sees himself, red and sweaty and debauched, his knees wantonly spread and his ass gaping open around Stiles’ invisible cock. It rhythmically dilates and contracts as Stiles’ cock saws in and out, and when Derek tilts his hips just so, the light shines in and Derek can see how pink and wet he is inside, how wanting and needing and greedy he is. He watches his own face contort, his eyebrows scrunching as his mouth falls open, lips red and shiny and swollen.

Stiles reaches between them, his hand edging into visibility as he starts jacking Derek’s cock, and Derek makes a face like  _porn_ , but not the professional stuff, _face like_ _porn_  as in the really amateur stuff where nobody is acting and the pleasure is animal and the orgasms so genuine. He watches his face go plaintive and desperate as Stiles strokes him, long ghostly fingers pale against his blood-flushed cock. The muscles of his torso ripple as he gets close, sweat shining on a bright sex flush, and Derek forces his eyes open as he comes, watching his hole clench around Stiles’ cock and his balls twitch as they send sperm up through Derek’s twitching cock and out onto his chest and belly. Derek watches himself twitch and shudder through the aftershocks as Stiles fucks him through his orgasm. He flickers into visibility as he comes, his body a taut arch over Derek as his hips rut and grind against Derek’s ass.

A few minutes later, when they’ve cooled down and cuddled up, Derek stuffs his head under his pillow and moans, “Ugh, Laura was _right_.”

"Hmm?" Stiles mumbles drowsily into his shoulder.

"My O face. She said my eyes cross and I make a dumb face and she was totally  _right_.”

"Yeah," Stiles agrees casually. "But it’s seriously the hottest dumb-and-cross-eyed look ever, so I wouldn't sweat it if I were you."

Derek whines and pulls another pillow up to cover his head.

Stiles pats his back. “If it makes you feel better, I love you and I think you’re beautiful even when you’re dumb and cross-eyed because I know I was the one who made you that way.”

And okay, that makes Derek feel a little bit better, but still. Most of him still can't get over the fact that _Laura_ , of all people, was _right_. _  
_


End file.
